JANUARY,    1904 


THE  DELINEATOR 

MRS.  OSBORN  WRITES  ABOUt      - 
THE  FASHIONS  IN  NEW  YORK      9 


Vo        L  X 1 1 1 


, 


No.  1 


3H  ED 


MONTHLY    BY        THE     B  U  TT  E  R  I C  K     PUBLISHING     CO.  (LTD.)     .    PARIS-LONDON-N^V,  YORK-TORONTO 

«P  I   ,\J\J          A  it  AR  ENTERED     AT    THE     POST    OFFICE.     NEW    YORK,     AS     SECOND     CLASS     MAIL     MATTER 


15   CENTS  A  COPY 


m      The      si, 

BOY  who 

.cornered  fliec 

MipKFT 

1 1/\i\l\Ll/ 


JAY  JOHNS  lives  in  Western  Pennsylvania.     From  the  neighbor- 
ing city  of  Pittsburg  he  has  apparently  absorbed  some  of  the 
spirit  of  its  gigantic  business  combinations.     Some  time  ago  he 
started  to  sell  The  Saturday  Evening  Post.     During  his  first  day's 
work  he  encountered  five  other  boys  selling  the  magazine,  and  only 
five  regular  customers  were  secured.     Still  he  ordered  fifteen  copies 
for  the  next  week.     He  sold  all  of  them  and  ordered  thirty  copies  for 
the  next  week.     By  that  time  three  of  the  other  boys  had  stopped 
work,  and  again  Jay  "  jumped  "  the  order. 

Three  weeks  later  Jay  received  a  special  prize  of  $25.00.     He 
sent  back  the  check  and  wrote  this  letter  : 

"7  want  to  be  the  only  toad  in  this  paddle.  I  can  sell  more  copies 
than  all  of  them  put  together,  anyway.  Three  of  these  boys  have  Quit, 
and  to-day  I  bought  out  the  other  two  boys  by  giving  them  fifty  cents 
a  piece.  I  am  now  the  only  boy  here  who  sells  THE  POST.  If  you  will 
agree  not  to  appoint  anybody  else  so  long  as  I  sell  a  lot,  you  can 
credit  this  $25.00  and  send  100  copies  for  next  week  and  125  copies 
each  week  thereafter." 

The  publishers  did  as  he  desired,  and  at  the  end  of  three  months  he  was 
selling  nearly  200  copies  a  week.  Then  he  looked  up  the  other  boys  who  had 
stopped  work  and  engaged  them  to  work  for  him.  They  went  to  work  under 
Jay's  direction  and  the  "corner"  was  complete. 


ANY  BOY 


willing  to  work  a  few  hours  on 
Fridays  and  Saturdays  can  earn 
money  through  The  Saturday  Evening  Post  plan.  More 
than  6000  do  so  each  week.  We  will  furnish  the  first 
week's  supply  of  ten  copies  without  charge.  You  can 
then  send  the  wholesale  price  for  as  many  as  you  find 
you  can  sell  the  next  week. 

$300.00  in  Extra  Cash  Prizes  Next  Month 

If  you  will  try  it  the  first  week's  supply  and   full    instructions  will   be  sent. 

Boy  Department,  The  Curtis  Publishing  Company 
455  Arch  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


GOLDEN  POPPY 

A  TRUE  NARRATIVE 

BY  JACK  LONDON,  Author  of  "  The  Call  of  the  Wild.' 


1H  A  V  E    a    poppy 
field.     That    is,   by 
the    grace    of    God 
and     the     good 
nature    of    editors, 
I    am    enabled     to 
place  each  month  divers 
gold  pieces  into  a  clerical 
gentleman's    hands,  and 
return    for  said  gold 
pieces  I  am  each  month 
reinvested    with    certain 
proprietary    rights    in    a 
poppy   field.     This  field 
blazes  on  the  rim  of  the 
Piedmont      Hills.       Be- 
neath lies  all  the  world. 

In  the  distance,  across  the  silver  sweep  of  bay,  San 
Francisco  smokes  on  her  many  hills  like  a  second  Rome. 
Not  far  away,  Mount  Tamalpias  thrusts  a  rugged  shoulder 
into  the  sky ;  and  midway  between  is  the  Golden  Gate, 
where  sea-mists  love  to  linger.  From  the  poppy  field 
we  often  see  the  shimmered  blue  of  the  Pacific  beyond, 
and  the  busy  ships  that  go  forever  out  and  in. 

"  We  shall  have  great  joy  in  our  poppy  field,"  said  Queen 
Bess.  "  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  how  the  poor  city  folk  will  envy 
when  they  come  to  see  us,  and  how  we  will  make  all  well 
again  when  we  send  them  off  with  great  golden  armfuls  ! '' 
"  But  those  things  will  have  to  come  down,"  I  added, 
pointing  to  numerous  obtrusive  notices  (relics  of  the  last 
tenant),  displayed  conspicuously  along  the  boundaries  and 
bearing,  each  and  all,  this  legend : 

"Private  Grounds.     Xo   Trespassing" 

t"  Why  should  we  refuse  the  poor  city  folk  a  ramble  over 
ur  field,  because,  forsooth,  they  have  not  the  advantage 
of  our  acquaintance? " 

"  How    I    abhor   such    things,"  said    Queen    Bess,  "  the 

ogant  symbols  of  power.'' 

"  They  disgrace  human  nature,"  said  I. 

'•  They  shame   the  generous  landscape,"   she  said,  "  and 

ey  are  abominable." 

"  Piggish  !  "  quoth  I,  hotly.     "  Down  with  them  '.  " 

We  looked  forward  to  the  coming  of  the  poppies,  did 
Queen  Bess  and  I,  looked  forward  as  only  creatures  of  the 
city  may  look  who  have  been  long  denied.  I  have  for- 
gotten to  mention  the  existence  of  a  house  above  the  poppy 
field,  a  squat  and  wandering  bungalow  in  which  we  had 
elected  to  forsake  town  traditions  and  live  in  fresher  and 
more  vigorous  ways.  The  first  poppies  came,  orange-yellow 
and  golden  in  the  standing  grain,  and  we  went  about  glee- 
fully, as  though  drunken  with  their  wine,  and  told  each 
other  that  the  poppies  were  there.  We  laughed  at  unex- 
pected moments,  in  the  midst  of  silences,  and  at  times 
grew  ashamed  and  stole  forth  secretly  to  gaze  upon  our 
treasury.  But  when  the  great  wave  of  poppy-flame  finally 
spilled  itself  down  the  field,  we  shouted  aloud,  and  danced, 
and  clapped  our  hands,  freely  and  frankly  mad. 

And  then  came  the  Goths.  My  face  was  in  a  lather,  the 
time  of  the  first  invasion,  and  1  suspended  my  razor  in  mid- 
air t»  ga/e  out  on  my  beloved  field.  At  the  far  end  I  saw 
a  little  girl  and  a  little  boy,  their  arms  filled  with  yellow 
'Spoil.  Ah,  thought  I,  an  unwonted  benevolence  burgeoning, 
r  what  a  delight  to  irre  is  their  delight!  It  is  sweet  that 


children  should  pick  poppies  in  my  field.  All  Summer 
shall  they  pick  poppies  in  my  field.  But  they  must  be  little 
children,  I  added  as  an  afterthought,  and  they  must  pick 
from  the  lower  end — this  last  prompted  by  a  glance  at  the 
great  golden  fellows  nodding  in  the  wheat  beneath  my  win- 
dow. Then  the  razor  descended.  Shaving  was  always  an 
absorbing  task,  and  I  did  not  glance  out  of  the  window 
again  until  the  operation  was  completed.  And  then  I  was 
bewildered.  Surely  this  was  not  my  poppy  field.  No — and 
yes,  for  there  were  the  tall  pines  clustering  austerely  to- 
gether on  one  side,  the  magnolia  tree  burdened  with  bloom, 
and  the  Japanese  quinces  splashing  the  driveway  hedge 
with  blood.  Yes,  it  was  the  field,  but  no  wave  of  poppy- 
flame  spilled  down  it,  nor  did  the  great  golden  fellows  nod 
in  the  wheat  beneath  my  window.  I  rushed  into  a  jacket 
and  out  of  the  house.  In  the  far  distance  were  disappear- 
ing two  huge  balls  of  color,  orange  and  yellow,  for  all  the 
world  like  perambulating  poppies  of  Cyclopean  breed. 

"Johnny,"  said  I  to  the  nine-year-old  son  of  my  sister, 
"Johnny,  whenever  little  girls  come  into  our  field  to  pick 
poppies,  you  must  go  down  to  them,  and  in  a  very  quiet  and 
gentlemanly  manner,  tell  them  it  is  not  allowed." 

Warm  days  came,  and  the  sun  drew  another  blaze  from 
the  free-bosomed  earth.  Whereupon  a  neighbor's  little  girl, 
at  the  behest  of  her  mother,  duly  craved  and  received  per- 
mission from  Queen  Bess  to  gather  a  few  poppies  for 
decorative  purposes.  But  of  this  I  was  uninformed,  and 
when  I  descried  her  in  the  midst  of  the  field  I  waved  my 
arms  like  a  semaphore  against  the  sky. 

"  Little  girl  ?  "  called  I.     "  Little  girl !  " 

The  little  girl's  legs  blurred  the  landscape  as  she  fled, 
and  in  high  elation  I  sought  Queen  Bess  to  tell  of  the 
potency  of  my  voice.  Nobly  she  came  to  the  rescue,  de- 
parting forthwith  on  an  expedition  of  conciliation  and 
explanation  to  the  little  girl's  mother.  But  to  this  day  the 
little  girl  seeks  cover  at  sight  cf  me,  and  I  know  the  mother 
will  never  be  as  cordial  as  she  would  otherwise  have  been. 

Came  dark,  overcast  days,  stiff,  driving  winds  and  pelt- 
ing rains,  day  on  day,  without  end,  and  the  city  folk  cowered 
in  their  dwelling  places  like  flood-beset  rats ;  and  like  rats, 
half-drowned  and  gasping  when  the  weather  cleared,  they 
crawled  out  and  up  the  green  Piedmont  slopes  to  bask  in 
the  blessed  sunshine.  And  they  invaded  my  field  in  swarms 
and  droves,  crushing  the  sweet  wheat  into  the  earth  and 
with  lustful  hands  ripping  the  poppies  out  by  the  roots. 

"  I  shall  put  up  the  warnings  against  trespassing,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Queen  Bess,  with  a  sigh.  "  I'm  afraid  it  is 
necessary." 

The  day  was  yet  young  when  she  sighed  again :  *'  I'm 
afraid,  O  Man,  that  your  signs  are  of  no  avail.  People 
have  forgotten  how  to  read,  these  days." 

I  went  out  on  the  porch  for  verification.  A  city  nymph, 
in  cool  Summer  gown  and  picture  hat,  paused  before  one 
of  my  newly  reared  warnings  and  read  it  through  with 
care.  Profound  deliberation  characterized  her  movements. 
She  was  statuesquely  tall,  but  with  a  toss  of  the  head  and 
a  flirt  of  the  skirt  she  dropped  on  hands  and  knees,  crawled 
under  the  fence,  and  came  to  her  feet  on  the  inside  with 
poppies  in  both  her  hands.  I  walked  down  the  drive  and 
talked  ethically  to  her,  and  she  went  away.  Then  I  put  up 
more  signs. 

At  one  time,  years  ago,  these  hills  were  carpeted  with 
poppies.  As  between  the  destructive  forces  and  the  will 
"  to  live,"  the  poppies  maintained  an  equilibrium  with  their 
environment.  But  the  city  folk  constituted  a  new  and  terri- 


77 


for  Jan u  JIT.  i  004 


ble  destructive  force,   the  equilibrium  was  overthrown  and       possibly  one  in  fifty   has   heard.     Also,   I   have    discovered 

that  the  relation  of  city  folk  to  country  flowers  is  quite 
analogous  to  that  of  a  starving  man  to  food.  No  more  than 
the  starving  man  realizes  that  five  pounds  of  meat  is  not 
so  good  as  an  ounce,  do  they  realize  that  five  hundred 
poppies  crushed  and  bunched  are  less  beautiful  than  two 
or  three  in  a  free  cluster,  where  the  green  leaves  and 
golden  bowls  may  expand  to  their  full  loveliness. 

Less  forgivable  than  the  unassthetic  are  the  mercenary- 
hordes   of   young    rascals    who    plunder    me    and    rob    the 
future    that  they  may  stand  on    street  corners    and    retail 
"  California  poppies,  only  five    cents  a  bunch  ! "      In  spite 
of  my  precautions  some  of  them  made  a  dollar  a  day  out 

of  my  field.  One  horde 
do  I  remember  with  keen 
regret.  Reconnoitering  for 
a  possible  dog,  they  applied 
at  the  kitchen  door  for  "  a 
drink  of  water,  please." 
While  they  drank  they 
were  besought  not  to  pick 
any  flowers.  They  nodded, 
wiped  their  mouths  and 
proceeded  to  take  them- 
selves off  by  the  side  of 
the  bungalow.  They  smote 
the  poppy  field  beneath 
my  windows,  spread  out 
fan-shaped  six  wide,  pick- 
ing with  both  hands,  and 
ripped  a  swath  of  destruc- 
tion through  the  very  heart 
of  the  field.  No  cyclone 
travelled  faster  or  destroy- 
ed more  completely.  I 
shouted  after  them,  but 
they  sped  on  the  wings  of 
the  wind,  great  regal  pop- 
pies, broken-stalked  and 
mangled,  trailing  after 
them  or  cluttering  their 
wake  —  the  most  h  i  g  11- 
handed  act  of  piracy,  I 
am  confident,  ever  com- 
mitted off  the  high  seas. 


the  poppies  well-nigh  perished.  Since  the  city  folk  plucked 
those  with  the  longest  stems  and  biggest  bowls,  and  since 
it  is  the  law  of  kind  to  procreate  kind,  the  long-stemmed, 
big-bowled  poppies  failed  to  go  to  seed,  and  a  stunted  short- 
stemmed  variety  remained  to  the  hills.  And  not  only  was 
it  stunted  and  short-stemmed,  but  sparsely  distributed  as 
weH.  Each  day  and  every  day,  for  years  and  years,  the 
city  folk  swarmed  over  the  Piedmont  Hills,  and  only  here 
and  there  did  the  genus  of  the  race  survive  in  the  form 
of  miserable  little  flowers,  close  clinging  and  quick  bloom- 
ing, like  children  of  the  slums  dragged  hastily  and  pre- 
cariously through  youth  to  a  shrivelled  and  futile  maturity. 

On  the  other  hand,  the 
poppies  had  prospered  in 
my  field  ;  and  not  only  had 
they  been  sheltered  from 
the  barbarians,  but  also 
from  the  birds.  Long  ago 
the  field  was  sown  in 
wheat,  which  went  to  seed 
unharvested  each  year,  and 
in  the  cool  depths  of  which 
the  poppy  seeds  were  hid- 
den from  the  keen  -  eyed 
songsters.  And  further, 
climbing  after  the  sun 
through  the  wheat  stalks, 
the  poppies  grew  taller  and 
taller  and  more  royal  even 
than  the  primordial  ones 
of  the  open. 

So  the  city  folk,  gazing 
from  the  bare  hills  to  my 
blazing,  burning  field,  were 
sorely  tempted,  and,  it 
must  be  told,  as  sorely  fell. 
But  no  sorer  was  their  fall 
than^that  of  my  beloved 
poppies.  Where  the  grain 
holds  the  dew  and  takes 
the  bite  from  the  sun  the 
soil  is  moist,  and  in  such 
soil  it  is  easier  to  pull  the 
poppies  out  by  the  roots 
than  to  break  the  stalk. 
Now  the  city  folk,  like 
other  folk,  are  inclined  to 
move  along  the  line  of  least 
resistance,  and  for  each 
flower  they  gathered,  there 
were  also  gathered  many 
crisp-rolled  buds  and  with 
them  all  the  possibilities 
and  future  beauties  of  the  plant  for  all  time  to  come. 

Ond  of  the  city  folk,  a  middle-aged  gentleman,  with  white 
hands  and  shifty  eyes,  especially  made  life  interesting  for 
me.  We  called  him  the  "  Repeater,"  what  of  his  ways. 
When  from  the  porch  we  implored  him  to  desist,  he  was 
wont  slowly  and  casually  to  direct  his  steps  toward  the 
fence,  simulating  finely  the  actions  of  a  man  who  had  not 
heard,  but  whose  walk,  instead,  had  terminated  of  itself  or 
of  his  own  volition.  To  heighten  this  effect,  now  and 
again,  still  casually  and  carelessly,  he  would  stoop  and  pluck 
another  poppy.  Thus  did  he  deceitfully  save  himself  the 
indignity  of  being  put  out,  and  rob  us  of  the  satisfaction  of 
putting  him  out.  But  he  came,  and  he  came  often,  each 
time  getting  away  with  an  able-bodied  man's  share  of 
plunder. 

It  is  not  good  to  be  of  the  city  folk.  Of  this  I  am  con- 
vinced. There  is  something  in  the  mode  of  life  that  breeds 
an  alarming  condition  of  blindness  and  deafness,  or  so  it 
seems  with  the  city  folk  that  come  to  my  poppy  field.  Of 
the  many  to  whom  I  have  talked  ethically  not  one  has  de- 
veloped who  has  ever  seen  the  warnings  so  conspicuously 
displayed,  while  of  those  called  out  to  from  the  porch, 


SHE   DROPPED  ON  HANDS  AND  KNEES,  CRAWLED    UNDER  THE    FENCE, 
AND    CAME    TO    HER    FEET  WITH   POPPIES  IN  BOTH   HANDS. Page    77. 


One  clay  I  went  a-fish- 
ing,  and  on  that  day  a 
woman  entered  the  field 
under  full  steam.  Appeals 
and  remonstrances  from 
the  porch  having  no  effect 
upon  her,  Queen  Bess  dis- 
patched a  little  girl  to  beg 
of  her  to  pick  no  more 

poppies.  The  woman  calmly  went  on  picking.  Then 
Queen  Bess  herself  went  down  through  the  heat  of  the 
day.  But  the  woman  went  on  picking,  and  while  she 
picked  she  discussed  property  and  proprietary  rights,  deny- 
ing Queen  Bess's  sovereignty  until  deeds  and  documents 
should  be  produced  in  proof  thereof.  And  all  the  time 
she  went  on  picking,  never  once  overlooking  her  hand. 
She  was  a  large  woman,  belligerent  of  aspect,  and  Queen 
Bess  was  only  a  woman  and  not  prone  to  fisticuffs.  So 
the  woman,  still  under  full  steam,  picked  until  she  could 
pick  no  more,  said  "  Good-day,"  and  sailed  majestically 
away. 

"  People  have  really  grown  worse  in  the  last  several  years, 
I  think,"  said  Queen  Bess  to  me  in  a  tired  sort  of  voice  that 
night,  as  we  sat  in  the  library  after  dinner. 

Next  day  I  was  inclined  to  agree  with  her.  "  There's  a 
woman  and  a  little  girl  heading  straight  for  the  poppies," 
said  May,  a  maid  about  the  bungalow.  I  went  out  on  the 
porch  and  waited  their  advent.  They  plunged  through  the 
pine  trees  and  into  the  fields,  and  as  the  roots  of  the  first 
poppies  were  pulled  I  called  to  them.  They  were  about  a 
hundred  feet  away.  The  woman  and  the  little  girl  turned 
78 

The    Delincat 


I  —  And  told  each  other  that  the  poppies  were  there  . 


79 


to  the  sound  of  my  voice  and  looked  at  me.  "  Please  do 
not  pick  the  poppies,"  1  pleaded.  They  pondered  this  for 
a  minute ;  then  the  woman  said  something  in  an  undertone 
to  the  little  girl,  and  both  backs  jack-knifed  as  the  slaughter 
recommenced.  I  shouted,  but  they  had  become  suddenly 
deaf.  I  screamed,  and  so  fiercely  that  the  little  girl  wavered 
dubiously.  And  while  the  woman  went  on  picking  I  could 
hear  her  in  low  tones  heartening  the  little  girl. 

I  recollected  a  siren  whistle  with  which  I  was  wont  to 
summon  Johnny,  the  son  of  my  sister.  It  was  a  fearsome 
thing,  of  a  kind  to  wake  the  dead,  and  I  blew  and  blew, 
but  the  jack-knifed  backs  never  unclasped.  I  do  not  mind 
with  men,  but  I  have  never  particularly  favored  physical 
encounters  with  women  ;  yet  this  woman,  who  encouraged  a 
little  girl  in  iniquity,  tempted  me. 

I  went  into  the  bungalow  and  fetched  my  rifle.  Flourish- 
ing it  in  a  sanguinary  manner  and  scowling  fearsomely,  I 
charged  upon  the  invaders.  The  little  girl  fled,  screaming, 
to  the  shelter  of  the  pines,  but  the  woman  calmly  went  on 
picking.  She  took  not  the  least  notice.  I  had  expected 
her  to  run  at  sight  of  me,  and  it  was  embarrassing.  There 
was  I,  charging  down  the  field  like  a  wild  bull  upon  a 
woman  who  would  not  get  out  of  the  way.  I  could  only  slow 
down,  superbly  conscious  of  how  ridiculous  it  all  was.  At 
a  distance  of  ten  feet  she  straightened  up  and  deigned  to 
look  at  me.  I  came  to  a  halt  and  blushed  to  the  roots  of 
my  hair.  Perhaps  I  really  did  frighten  her  (I  sometimes 
try  to  persuade  myself  that  this  is  so),  or  perhaps  she  took 
pity  on  me ;  but,  at  any  rate,  she  stalked  out  of  my  field 
with  great  composure,  nay,  majesty,  her  arms  brimming 
with  orange  and  gold. 

Nevertheless,  thenceforward  I  saved  my  lungs  and  flour- 
ished my  rifle.  Also,  I  made  fresh  generalizations.  To 
commit  robbery  women  take  advantage  of  their  sex.  Men 
have  more  respect  for  property  than  women.  Men  are  less 
insistent  in  crime  than  women.  And  women  are  less  afraid 


PICKED   UNTIL    SHE    COULD    PICK    NO    MORE,   SAID    "  GOOD-DAY," 

AND    SAILED    MAJESTICALLY    AWAY.  —  Page    78. 


HE  REGARDED    ME    SPEECHLESSLY.       IT    MUST    HAVE    MADE  A  GREAT 

PICTURE 


of  guns  than  men.  Likewise,  we  conquer  the  earth  in 
hazard  and  battle  by  the  virtues  of  our  mothers.  We  are 
a  race  of  robbers,  of  land-robbers  and  sea-robbers,  we  Anglo- 
Saxons,  and  small  wonder,  when  we  suckle  at  the  breasts 
of  a  breed  of  women  such  as  maraud  my  poppy  field. 

Still  the  pillage  went  on.  Sirens  and  gun-flourishings 
were  without  avail.  The  city  folk  were  great  of  heart  and 
undismayed,  and  I  noted  the  habit  of  "  repeating  "  was  be- 
coming general.  What  booted  it  how  often  they  were  driven 
forth  if  each  time  they  were  permitted  to  carry  away  their 
ill-gotten  plunder  ?  When  one  has  turned  the  same  person 
away  twice  and  thrice  an  emotion  arises  somewhat  akin  to 
homicide.  And  when  one  has  once  become  conscious  of 
this  sanguinary  feeling  his  whole  destiny  seems  to  grip  hold 
of  him  and  drag  him  into  the  abyss.  More  than  once  I 
found  myself  unconsciously  pulling  the  rifle  into  position  to 
get  a  sight  on  the  miserable  trespassers.-  In  my  sleep  I 
slew  them  in  manifold  ways  and  threw  their  carcasses  into 
the  reservoir.  Each  day  the  temptation  to  shoot  them  in 
the  legs  became  more  lurir°f,  and  every  day  I  felt  my  fate 
calling  to  me  imperiously.  Visions  of  the  gallows  rose  up 
before  me,  and  with  the  hemp  about  my  neck  I  saw  stretched 
out  the  pitiless  future  of  my  children,  dark  with  disgrace 
and  shame.  I  became  afraid  of  myself,  and  Queen  Bess 
went  about  with  anxious  face,  privily  beseeching  my  friends 
to  entice  me  into  taking  a  vacation.  Then,  and  at  the  last 
gasp,  came  the  thought  that  saved  me :  Why  not  confiscate? 
If  their  forays  were  bootless,  in  the  nature  of  things  their 
forays  would  cease. 

The  first  to  enter  my  field  thereafter  was  a  man.  I  was 
waiting  for  him.  And  oh,  joy  !  it  was  the"  Repeater  "  him- 
self, smugly  complacent  with  knowledge  of  past  success.  I 
dropped  the  rifle  negligently  across  the  hollow  of  my  arm 
and  went  down  to  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you  for  those  poppies,"  I  said  in 
my  oiliest  tones  ;  "  but  really,  you  know,  I  must  have  them." 

He  regarded  me  speechlessly.  It  must,  have  made  a  great 
80 

The    Delineate 


picture.  It  surely  was  dramatic.  With  the  rifle  across  my 
arm  and  my  suave  request  still  ringing  in  my  ears,  I  felt 
like  Black  Bart,  and  Jesse  James,  and  Jack  Shepard,  and 
Robin  Hood,  and  whole  generations  of  highwaymen. 

"  Come,  come,"  I  said,  a  little  sharply  and  in  what  I 
imagined  was  the  true  fashion  ;  "  I  am  sorry  to  inconvenience 
you,  believe  me,  but  I  must  have  those  poppies." 

I  absently  shifted  the  gun  and  smiled.  That  fetched 
him.  Without  a  word  he  passed  them  over  and  turned  his 
toes  toward  the  fence,  but  no  longer  casual  and  careless 
was  his  carriage,  nor  did  he  stoop  to  pick  the  occasional 
poppy  by  the  way.  That  was  the  last  of  the  "  Repeater."  I 
could  see  by  his  eyes  that  he  did  not  like  me,  and  his  back 
reproached  me  all  the  way  down  the  field  and  out  of  sight. 

From  that  day  the  bungalow  has  been  flooded  with  pop- 
pies. Every  vase  and  earthen  jar  is  filled  with  them.  They 
blaze  on  every  mantel  and  run  riot  through  all  the  rooms. 
I  present  them  to  my  friends  in  huge  bunches,  and  still  the 
kind  city  folk  come  and  gather  more  for  me.  "  Sit  down 
for  a  moment,"  I  say  to  the  departing  guest,  "  and  in  the 
fulness  of  a  few  minutes  your  poppies  shall  be  added 
unto."  And  there  we  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  porch  while 
aspiring  city  creatures  pluck  my  poppies  and  sweat  under 
the  brazen  sun.  And  when  their  arms  are  sufficiently 
weighted  with  my  yellow  glories,  I  go  down  with  the  rifle 
over  my  arm  and  disemburden  them.  Thus  have  I  become 
convinced  that  every  situation  has  its  compensations. 

Confiscation  was  successful,  so  far  as  it  went ;  but  I  had 
forgotten  one  thing ;  namely,  the  vast  number  of  the  city 
folk.  Though  the  old  transgressors  came  no  more,  new 
ones  arrived  every  day,  and  I  found  myself  confronted  with 
the  titanic  task  of  educating  a  whole  cityful  to  the  inex- 
pediency of  raiding  my  poppy  field.  During  the  process 
of  disemburdening  them  I  was  accustomed  to  explaining 
my  side  of  the  case,  but  I  soon  gave  this  over.  It  was  a 
waste  of  breath.  They  could  not  understand.  To  one 
lady  who  insinuated  that  I  was  miserly,  I  said : 

"  My  dear  madam,  no  hardship  is  worked  upon  you.  Had 
I  not  been  parsimonious  yesterday  and  the  day  before,  these 
poppies  would  have  been  picked  by  the  city  hordes  of  that 
day  and  the  day  before,  and  your  eyes,  which  to-day  have 
discovered  this  field,  would  have  beheld  no  poppies  at  all. 
The  poppies  you  may  not  pick  to-day  are  the  poppies  I 
did  not  permit  to  be  picked  yesterday  and  the  day  before. 
Therefore,  believe  me,  you  are  denied  nothing." 

"  But  the  poppies  are  here  to-day,"  she  said,  glaring  car- 
nivorously  upon  their  glow  and  splendor. 

"  I  will  pay  you  for  them,"  said  a  gentleman,  at  another 
time.  (I  had  just  relieved  him  of  an  armful.)  I  felt  a  sud- 
den shame,  I  know  not  why,  unless  it  be  that  his  words  had 
just  made  clear  to  me  that  a  monetary,  as  well  as  an 
aesthetic  value  was  attached  to  my  flowers.  The  apparent 
sordidness  of  my  position  overwhelmed  me,  and  I  said, 
weakly,  "  I  do  not  sell  my  poppies.  You  may  have  what  you 
have  picked."  But  before  the  week  was  out  I  confronted 
the  same  gentleman  again.  "  I  will  pay  you  for  them,"  he 


said.  "  Yes,"  I  said,  "  you  may  pay  me  for  them.  Twenty 
dollars,  please."  He  gasped,  looked  at  me  searchingly, 
gasped  again,  and  silently  and  sadly  put  them  down.  But 
it  remained,  as  usual,  for  a  woman  to  attain  the  sheerest 
pitch  of  audacity.  When  I  declined  payment  and  demanded 
my  plucked  beauties,  she  refused  to  give  them  up.  "  I 
picked  these  poppies,"  she  said,  "  and  my  time  is  worth 
money.  When  you  have  paid  me  for  my  time  you  may 
have  them."  Her  cheeks  flamed  rebellion,  and  her  face, 
withal  a  pretty  one,  was  set  and  determined.  Now,  I  was 
a  man  of  the  hill  tribes,  and  she  a  mere  woman  of  the  city 
folk,  and  though  it  is  not  my  inclination  to  enter  into  details, 
it  is  my  pleasure  to  state  that  that  bunch  of  poppies  subse- 
quently glorified  the  bungalow  and  that  the  woman  departed 
to  the  city  unpaid.  Anyway,  they  were  my  poppies. 

"  They  are  God's  poppies,"  said  the  Radiant  Young  Radi- 
cal, democratically  shocked  at  sight  of  me  turning  city  folk 
out  of  my  field.  And  for  two  weeks  she  hated  me  with 
a  deathless  hatred.  I  sought  her  out  and  explained.  I  ex- 
plained at  length.  I  told  the  story  of  the  poppy  as  Maeter- 
link  has  told  the  life  of  the  bee.  I  treated  the  question 
biologically,  psychologically  and  sociologically.  I  discussed 
it  ethically  and  aesthetically.  I  grew  warm  over  it,  and  im- 
passioned ;  and  when  I  had  done,  she  professed  conversion, 
but  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  knew  it  to  be  compassion. 

I  fled  to  other  friends  for  consolation.  I  retold  the  story 
of  the  poppy.  They  did  not  appear  supremely  interested. 
I  grew  excited.  They  were  surprised  and  pained.  They 
looked  at  me  curiously.  "  It  ill-befits  your  dignity  to  squabble 
over  poppies,"  they  said.  "  It  is  unbecoming." 

I  fled  away  to  yet  other  friends.  I  sought  vindication. 
The  thing  had  become  vital,  and  I  needs  must  put  myself 
right.  I  felt  called  upon  to  explain,  though  well  knowing 
that  he  who  explains  is  lost.  I  told  the  story  of  the 
poppy  over  again.  I  went  into  the  minutest  details.  I 
added  to  it,  and  expanded.  I  talked  myself  hoarse,  and 
when  I  could  talk  no  more  they  looked  bored.  Also,  they 
said  insipid  things,  and  soothful  things,  and  things  concern- 
ing other  things  and  not  at  all  to  the  point.  I  was  con- 
sumed with  anger,  and  there  and  then  I  renounced  them  all. 

At  the  bungalow  I  lie  in  wait  for  chance  visitors.  Craftily 
I  broach  the  subject,  watching  their  faces  closely  the  while 
to  detect  first  signs  of  disapprobation,  whereupon  I  empty 
long-stored  vials  of  wrath  upon  their  heads.  I  wrangle  for 
hours  with  whomsoever  does  not  say  I  am  right.  I  am  be- 
come like  Guy  de  Maupassant's  old  man  who  picked  up  a 
piece  of  string.  I  am  incessantly  explaining,  and  nobody 
will  understand.  I  have  become  more  brusque  in  my  treat- 
ment of  the  predatory  city  folk.  No  longer  do  I  take 
delight  in  their  disemburdenment,  for  it  has  become  an 
onerous  duty,  a  wearisome  and  distasteful  task.  My 
friends  look  askance  and  murmur  pityingly  on  the  side 
when  we  meet  in  the  city.  They  rarely  come  to  see  me 
now.  They  are  afraid.  I  am  an  embittered  and  disap- 
pointed man,  and  all  the  light  seems  to  have  gone  out  of 
my  life  and  into  my  blazing  field.  So  one  pays  for  things. 


T 


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Loveth  Knowledge" 


TO  BE- 


.24, 


iORItL  UHUtf 

'  Hosiery 
he  world 


7  PA.VS  ONLV. 


r 

r.  Every  American  is 
irld  in  manufacturing, 
d  articles  that  we  once 
This  fact  is  as  true  of 
ichinery  is  far  superior 
mills  is  invented  by  us. 

r  hosiery.    Twentw 
Kact  twist  necessary  t» 

uster  and  does  not 

iger  after  dyeing  than 


points  where  it  is 

f  knees,  heels  and  toes, 
triple"  Knee  "Leather 
_  boys'    "four"   thread 
at  the  knee.    No  one 
n. 

...  hosiery  THE  BEST. 

lachine  whereby  we  know 

s,  but  we  sum  it  all  up  by 
•  bearing  our  label,  "satis- 


girl,  woman  or  man,  from  the 
'Ik  embroidered 

.=aler  does  not  keep  them,  sample  pairs 
ime,  giving  size  you  wear. 

rk«fs."     ....  25C. 

35c. 

$1.00 

25c. 
25c. 
25c. 
25c. 
5Oc. 

are  "just  as  good  "—they  are  not     Order  any  of 
and  in  wear  they  will  prove  the  truthfulness  of  our 

».1U  »uu  wTnno->nB.Biy  uuy  0,11,  other brand,  foreign  or  American.afteryouhavegiven 
the  Black  Cat  Brand  a  trial,  because  you  will  realize  they  are  the  best-there  are  no  exceptions. 


tocKing's, 


CHICAGO-ROCKFORD  HOSIERY  CO.,  Dept.  L,  Kenosha,Wis. 


BLACK  CAT 

BRAND 


THis   is  tHe 
Label 


